The gears revolved and turned
by loopylouise123
Summary: AU Set before How long is forever? Nightwing may claim that Robin is gone, but that doesn't mean everyone thinks so. SladeNightwing slash.


A future fic from the episode: How long is forever?

Warnings: Hinted Slade/Nightwing slash, though nothing out spoken or graphic.

Disclaimer: The Teen Titans do not belong to me.

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The gears revolved and turned.

There was something mesmerizing and familiar about the way those gears kept turning, making the same sound over and over again. They would turn day and night, hour after hour, second after second and never change.

Unlike him, he had changed.

Everything had changed.

The Titans were no more, their tower destroyed, decayed far from the proud structure it used to be. Within its decaying depths a half machine, half human dead hero still haunted its remains. Outdated and stranded within its walls.

Raven had gone insane. It had only been a matter of time; after all of those lives that had been lost during the great battle with Trigon, all of those heroes that had made a stand and died trying to save the world had been a huge blow to an already fragile mind. After the split of the Titans, Raven couldn't take that extra loss she convinced herself as being her fault.

Beastboy was no longer a hero. Unable to survive on his own he was reduced to a cowardly dog and sought refuge within a circus, locked behind bars of his own making that protected him from the outside world.

And Starfire… the beautiful green eyed red head that had haunted his dreams and every waking moment months after she had disappeared, was gone for all eternity.

As for Robin, he was as dead as the ideals that had created him.

A more darker and sinister vigilante stood in his place, as dark as the uniform that clung to his skin.

Yet, as Nightwing swung through the city in the dead of night his old name could be heard whispered within the wind. If Robin was as dead as Nightwing claimed him to be, then why was he being called by the shadows and the waking moon?

It had been happening for weeks now. Nightwing would swing down and fight whatever criminal scum had decided to invade _his_ city and when he was tying them up there would be a flicker of movement, a dark chuckle that had never, would never leave then a whispered voice, almost a purr saying… "Robin…"

It was almost infuriating. _Almost._

So here he was. Sitting within _his_ lair, reading through information on a new, more dangerous criminal when a whispered voice, almost inaudible over the sound of the gears tickled his ear… "Robin…"

**Nightwing** stood, spilling papers on the floor, floating down forgotten as the vigilante swept his eyes over his lair, trying to find that flicker of movement, that dark chuckle or just a glance of orange… "Robin…"

Closer this time, echoing throughout the room, hidden within the ever turning gears and long shadows created from so little light. The light which had almost died, had begun to die as soon as Starfire had disappeared, or even when a masked mercenary had threatened a sixteen year old boy with the lives of his friends… "Robin…"

That was then. This is now.

"It's **Nightwing**." Not as steady as he would've like, his voice wavering in the darkness.

A dark chuckle, another movement, quicker this time, he was almost unable to catch it.

"Perhaps." Amusement dripped from the voice, but still dark, still forceful. Ever domineering.

"What do you _want_?" He voice was as steady as it was ever going to be and the vigilante turned, trying to catch any noise that would give the game away. Trying to keep himself in the hear and now, not back then when he had been wearing orange and black and kneeling before a monster that never seemed to die.

"I want a lot of things my Robin." He was still unable pin point the voice, it seemed to be everywhere and no where all at once. "What the real question is…" A pause, a breathless second… "What is it that you want?"

Nightwing tried not growl, he was not _Robin. _Robin was dead, so he could not lose his patience this early in the game, not like before, not now. "I don't want anything from you." _Especially_ from you.

A movement, a small noise then a ghost of a touch in his long hair. He froze.

"You grew out your hair." It was whispered against his ear and Nightwing couldn't have stopped that shiver as much as he couldn't have saved Starfire. That earned him a chuckle, he felt the vibrations from that along his spine and he could just _feel_ his huge bulk standing right behind him.

He turned, quick as lightening and threw a punch. It was unsurprisingly blocked but not the kick that was launched at the same time the punch was thrown.

Slade was forced back a couple of feet, it gave Nightwing precious distance which allowed him to flip away backwards, giving him some space to _breath_.

Slade straightened, unfazed and undamaged by the kick. "You've gotten better." He sounded pleased, perhaps Nightwing was imagining it, but he thought he also sounded a little impressed. "Robin wouldn't have been able to make that kick."

Nightwing narrowed his eyes and controlled his breathing. "Robin wasn't a lot of things."

Though Slade didn't outwardly show it, Nightwing could _feel_ him silently agreeing.

"Perhaps." His voice once again sounded amused. "But Robin didn't reject and hide away from his friends."

Nightwing paused, trying to consider… "**Nightwing** doesn't have any friends."

If the vigilante had X ray vision he knew Slade would be smiling under that mask.

"My dear boy…" Slade walked forward, calm and collected and Nightwing couldn't make himself move away. "You _never_ had any friends."

Slade retrieved something from his belt, taking it within his hand then stepped even closer, but something flickered within that one eye and it prevented the once hero from moving.

Nightwing looked at Slade's out stretched palm and lying innocently within a strong hand was a silver, sharp 'S'. That had once adorned the chest of a dead hero fighting to save his friends lives.

Nightwing looked up at Slade then back at the S. The invitation and message was as clear as the light of day.

The vigilante reached out and took it, savouring the feel of it in his hand as the light died out and the darkness swallowed him whole.

And the gears revolved and turned.

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There you go. Something different that jumped out at me and demanded to be written.

I'm sorry that it's not very long but that seemed a good way to end.

Anyway, reviews are much appreciated.


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